


Stitches

by sapphicjasper



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Autistic Will Graham, M/M, Post Season 3, Season 3 Spoilers, cottagecore vibes, hannibal and will regret some things, mostly will though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicjasper/pseuds/sapphicjasper
Summary: After the fall, Will and Hannibal find themselves a new home. But Will begins acting different after a few weeks, and Hannibal is getting worried.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 107





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> i'm still coping with the ending of season 3 so i'm just churning out fanfiction nonstop lmao. anyway, hope you enjoy! comments and feedback are appreciated, i'm new to this fandom so i'm still figuring out how to write these guys lol

With each passing week, Will was growing more quiet. Not so quiet that Hannibal felt he was giving him the cold shoulder; they had conversations daily, at the very least. But anyone who knew Will -- and Hannibal did better than anyone in this world-- could tell that ever since the fall, even after they'd tended to each other's wounds, something wasn't put back in the right place, and it was becoming more and more apparent as time went on. 

Lately, he’d taken an interest in cross-stitching. It busied his hands and soothed his otherwise noisy mind, and he’d always have something to keep as a reward once he was done (even if he was rarely proud of the results). 

While it had been years since Will’s life had any sort of structure, he _did_ have a routine that he found comforting: when the sun would begin to set, Will would go out into the field just beyond their cabin and sit in the grass, listening to the waves of the nearby water, taking in the lovely and salty scent of the ocean. He’d bring his embroidery loom with him, of course, and work until Hannibal called him in for dinner. 

Hannibal placed the lid on the pot of stew he'd prepared. He peered out the window at Will, watching him from behind as he busied himself with his work. He hated to interrupt him when he was so focused… But he also hated serving Will a cold dinner. 

Hannibal put on a light sweater and grabbed his cane. He’d injured his right knee in the fall, and as a result, had a permanent limp. Fortunately, Will had been able to make him a cane with the wood from one of the many cherry trees surrounding their cabin. 

He walked down the grassy hill and approached Will from behind, but cleared his throat so his presence didn’t startle him; it wasn't wise to startle someone with a needle in their hands, after all. 

Will, however, didn't turn away from his artwork. But he seemed to notice Hannibal's presence, because he scooted over on the rock he was sitting on as if inviting him to join. Hannibal eased himself down beside Will, peering at his work. It was unfinished, but he could see the design he was working toward: an image of a deer, laying in a bed of lavender flowers. 

"Beautiful work." Hannibal remarked. 

Will placed his sewing needle in a small metal case, clicking it shut. "This is my third try." he said. "The first deer looked more like a horse, and I realized I'd used the wrong color thread halfway through the second attempt. If some bullshit happens to this one, I'm finding a new hobby." Will scoffed. 

Hannibal smiled. "It’s coming along wonderfully.” 

"Let's hope so. My next hobby might not be so pleasant." Will said. 

Hannibal reached for Will’s hand. “Are you coming to dinner?” 

“In five minutes.” Will said. “I’ll meet you there.” 

Hannibal wasn’t quite sure what the five minutes were for, since he’d already put away his embroidery tools. But he kept his mouth shut because Will already seemed a bit on edge, and he reached for his cane as he stood back up. 

Hannibal began to make his way back to the cabin. Once he reached the back door, he paused for a moment, glancing back at Will and waiting for something (though he wasn't sure what) before continuing on inside.

* * *

During the night, it became even more clear that something wasn’t right with Will. He went to bed earlier and earlier each day, yet always seemed wide awake when Hannibal came to bed; and when Hannibal would join him, he rarely spoke, and denied his attempts at intimacy. 

But Hannibal tried not to make too much of a fuss about it, as needy as he may have been. He’d asked many times if Will was feeling alright, and he’d _insist_ he was fine, not even acknowledging the change in personality. Hannibal would often get frustrated at this, but he bit his tongue. 

As he crawled into bed that night, Hannibal noticed Will was facing away from him. The slight movement of his eyelashes, however, showed that he was still awake, at least. He placed a hand on Will’s shoulder and awaited a reaction; none. _’It’s not rejection, at least.’_

His fingers drew little circles on his flesh, making sure to be gentle of the many scars he bore, for they were still sensitive even after months of healing. His hand moved downward, grazing that soft skin and dark hair, until they finally stopped at his worn and calloused hands, which he gripped tightly in his own. 

"It wasn't an accident." 

The sudden break in silence made Hannibal flinch. Feeling that he’d crossed a boundary, he pulled his hand away -- but Will tightened his grip and refused to let him go. 

"What was that?" Hannibal asked. 

Will turned to face Hannibal, but his eyes did not meet him. 

"When we fell." Will said. He gripped his hand even tighter. 

Hannibal’s stomach turned at the mere mention of that fall. Though months had passed since the two of them had plunged into the atlantic, and they'd, for the most part, recovered from the many injuries they'd acquired, the two of them hadn't spoken of it since. 

They’d both lost a lot of blood that night. Will could barely stand on his own two feet. The fall had been a loss of balance, a mistake -- simply not worth discussing. 

“You fell.” Hannibal stated. 

“I didn’t.” Will said. “I pushed you. I wanted us both to die.” 

Hannibal nodded in understanding, and pressed a kiss to Will’s knuckles. 

So it _wasn’t_ an accident, but that didn’t change much. After all, he'd done his fair share of damage to Will over the years; whatever his reason may have been for pushing him, it was not something he could see resulting in a grudge. 

"It's in the past." Hannibal finally said. "You don't need to explain yourself to me." 

"I know I don't _need_ to do anything." Will sighed. "I'm saying that I _want_ to." His grip on Hannibal’s hand increased with each passing second, and what first started out as a display of affection appeared more desperate, as if he feared Hannibal would let go. 

"Would explaining it make you feel better? Or is it just an obligation you've put upon yourself?" Hannibal asked. 

Will hesitated. "I don't know." he finally said, but something about his tone made Hannibal think he did. 

Hannibal pressed another kiss to Will's knuckles. "Would you be willing to sleep on it? Tell me in the morning, after we’ve both gotten our rest?” 

Will nodded, though his expression looked uncertain. To Hannibal's relief, however, he didn't face away from him when he laid back down, and instead buried his face into the crook of his neck. Hannibal held him close, nuzzling that curly head of hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed or washed in days (if he wasn't so concerned about Will at that moment, he'd have nagged him to shower), and gently wove his fingers across Will's back. "Sleep well. I'll remind you of this in the morning, if you'd like." 

"I won’t forget." Will whispered. 

Hannibal gave him a kiss on the forehead. Will didn’t kiss him back. A mixture of frustration and worry welled up in his chest, but he managed to shake it off, because Will was laying here in his arms, and that alone was enough to comfort him. He closed his eyes and dozed off.

* * *

Hannibal woke up to an empty bed. The scent of Will still lingered on the sheets, but the indent on his pillow and side of the mattress weren't there, which meant he'd been up for quite a while. He glanced at the clock; 4:16. Far too early for Will to have woken up, but he'd been gone too long to have simply gotten a glass of water or gone to the bathroom... 

The sound of footsteps quickly dispelled any worries he might have had about Will; and he knew it wasn't an intruder, because the footstep pattern was identical to the one he often heard when Will was pacing. Circle the living room, walk down the hall, circle the kitchen, and back. 

He knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep, so Hannibal got up, made the bed, grabbed his cane, and made his way downstairs. 

He happened to catch Will in the hallway section of the pacing routine, and as he paced, he flapped his hands near his chest. Normally, Hannibal found it rather charming; Will put so much effort into masking his autism around others, but when he was with Hannibal, he allowed his true self to shine through. However, he often stimmed under distress, and he had a rather strong feeling that was the case right about then. 

"Good morning." Hannibal said, despite the pitch black sky just outside the window. "You got up early today." 

Will instinctively stopped pacing for a moment, his hands going still; then, once he re-adjusted, he started back up again. "'Got up' implies I slept." he said. 

Maybe he shouldn't have made the bed after all. "Perhaps I shouldn't have asked you to sleep on whatever it is you wanted to tell me." Hannibal said, seating himself down at the couch. He noticed Will’s embroidery loom sitting on the cushion beside him. 

Will scoffed. "I'm the one that said no." 

"Well," Hannibal began, moving the loom aside so Will could join him, "It _is_ technically morning. Would you like to discuss?" 

Will hesitated just long enough for Hannibal to worry, but not long enough for him to repeat himself. "It's not a discussion. It's a confession." Will finally said, lowering himself onto the couch beside Hannibal. 

"Then confess. We've already laid ourselves bare; there is no sense in keeping secrets." Hannibal said, placing a hand on Will’s lap. 

Will shied away from Hannibal's touch. "The fall. I pushed you on purpose.” 

Hannibal nodded. That he already knew. 

"I didn't think we'd survive." Will continued. "I... I _wanted_ us both to crumble against those rocks at the bottom... But it wasn't enough to kill us. Maybe I knew that, though.” 

He was beginning to look uneasy; spotting the cross stitching loom, he reached for it and grabbed the needle, busying his hands as he spoke. "I knew we couldn’t survive without each other. But I also knew that as long as we were alive... Hideous things would happen." His voice cracked. "And I _enjoyed_ it. I enjoyed killing him with you, and I enjoyed watching his blood spill onto the pavement… And I loved how the blood was black in the moonlight. Like you’d told me.” 

He began threading faster, his stitches erratic and uneven as his hands trembled. Hannibal remained silent. 

"I was becoming something horrible… _We_ were becoming something so disgusting. And... and yet, something within me _loved_ that. I could only see _you_ and that hideous thing growing inside me that you'd only continue to feed, but… But I felt like if I waited any longer, I'd never be able to stop, that my only chance to stop - _fuck_!" 

And just like that, Will's spilling stream of consciousness came to an end. Will dropped his needle with a pained hiss. Crimson blood oozed from his index finger, and dripped onto the canvas on his lap. Will instinctively licked the wound, which proved to be pointless as more blood kept oozing out. 

Hannibal took Will's hand in his own, reaching and pulling two tissues out from the coffee table with his free hand. He wrapped one tissue around the bleeding finger as a temporary bandage, and used the other to wipe the tears from Will’s face. 

“I betrayed you when I tried to kill us.” Will finally continued, his voice wavering. “But what I’m doing right now, what we’ve done together… I'm betraying everyone else I’ve ever cared about." 

Hannibal didn't speak; he _knew_ Will had more to say, and knew that if he spoke now, Will might change his mind and keep it bottled up. But when Will leaned in towards him, he pulled him into a tight embrace. 

"I don't want to kill you. I don't want to kill _us._ " Will whispered against his neck. "But I can't promise you that I never will. I don't think I'll ever be able to promise. Not if things stay the way they are.” 

A silence filled the room. Now, Hannibal felt he could speak. “You didn’t feel this way when you woke up from the fall. Why do you feel this way now?”  
“When I woke up and saw you were still alive... I felt the most _selfish_ wave of relief.” Will said. “I was relieved that I hadn’t been able to do the right thing. I wanted to run away with you. But that rush of relief has started to fade, now.” 

“We’ve become so much alike.” Hannibal smiled sadly. “You've learned to be selfish and cruel, but it hasn’t diminished your caring nature… The inverse could be said for myself, too.” 

Will buried his face against Hannibal's neck, and though he didn't make a sound, he could feel the wetness of tears against his skin. He caressed Will's hair and gently hushed him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

"Do you have anything more to say?” he asked. 

"I don't." Will whispered. 

Hannibal nodded. "Do you feel like you could sleep, now?" 

"I don't know." Will said. 

"I think you should try." Hannibal rose to his feet. If his leg was still fully functional, he would have carried Will in his arms. He grabbed his cane and extended his free hand towards Will. The latter hesitated for a moment before pulling himself up. 

Once they reached the bedroom, Will laid down on the bed with a sigh. Hannibal gave him a kiss on the forehead, and Will pulled the blanket over himself. 

"Are you not going back to sleep?" Will asked, watching as Hannibal walked over to get dressed. 

"I don't think so." he said, smoothing his hair out with a comb once he'd put his clothes on. 

"If you're going to leave, I need to tell you something first." Will said. He gestured for Hannibal to come over, and the latter obliged, sitting down on his side of the bed. 

"I never want to leave you." Will said, gripping his hand. "That's the _only_ thing I'm certain of right now. Everything else is confusing _except_ for you.” 

Hannibal smiled. "That’s wonderful to hear, but I didn’t doubt it for a second.” he lied. He pressed a kiss to Will's cheek, and once he pulled away, Will grabbed him and brought their lips together in a more passionate kiss. 

"If you're gonna make me sleep alone, at least kiss me on the lips." Will teased. 

"Forgive me for being rude." Hannibal chuckled. "You just might have to eat me, now." 

Will rolled his eyes, laying back down against the pillows. "Good night. Or morning.” 

"Regardless of the time, sleep well, my dear." Hannibal said, making his way out the door and pulling it shut.

* * *

When Will awoke, he didn’t feel well rested; but when he looked at the clock, he realized he’d gotten _far_ more than eight hours of sleep. With a sigh, he forced himself upright and rubbed his face. Once he’d more or less woken himself up, he rolled out of bed and went straight to the bathroom, brushing his teeth but not caring _quite_ enough to get properly dressed before going downstairs. 

When he reached the living room, he spotted Hannibal sitting on the sofa -- and he must have been rather focused on something, because he took a few moments to acknowledge Will’s presence. "Oh, good afternoon. Are you well rested?" 

"Yeah." Will lied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants and sitting down beside him. He stared sleepily at the crackling fireplace, and then rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. He spotted a cup of coffee on the table, and stole a sip of it. 

“I poisoned that, you know.” Hannibal said. 

Will snorted, setting the mug down on a coaster. He turned to face Hannibal, and only then did he notice that the embroidery loom was in his hands, and he was stitching away. 

“What are you doing?” Will asked. 

Hannibal stopped. "Forgive me. I only intended to fix your mistake from earlier. But then I got carried away, and kept stitching long after it was fixed. Should I stop?" Hannibal asked. 

Will shook his head. “It was pissing me off. You can finish it.” 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of them. Hannibal reached for Will’s hand to give it a kiss, and then examined the finger he'd pricked earlier that morning. The cut had mostly healed, leaving a tiny scab on the pad of his finger. Hannibal kissed that as well. 

"I promise," Hannibal began, turning his gaze towards Will's. The latter didn't look back, but he could still see his eyes and tell that he was listening. "And you _know_ I don't take promises lightly, that I want you to live your life with me and not feel as if you’re betraying anyone. I don’t want you to feel the way you did this morning. Or the way you’ve felt these past few weeks.” 

Will looked uncertain; he turned his gaze up towards Hannibal's for a moment, his expression seeming to ask for clarification. 

"You complete me, Will." Hannibal said. "Everything else in my life, I could learn to live without, if need be. It will take time. But if I need to, I will do what I can.” 

Hannibal slid the now-finished cross stitch stag towards Will, and his expression immediately softened. As he looked it over, he saw that Hannibal had picked up where he'd left off _perfectly_. Their combined work melded together seamlessly. The stitching on the stag was perfectly uniform; the bed of lavender beneath it, too, was stitched in a colorful but coordinated spectrum of warm purples and shades of blue. The stain from Will’s blood, however, looked like it had been scrubbed and unsuccessfully removed; but it didn’t take away from the beauty of the embroidery. 

Will pressed a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”


End file.
